


Center Stage

by elenajames



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Claude being a good captain, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sex Tapes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 02:47:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18217169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/pseuds/elenajames
Summary: Every rookie has a to make a tape. Now, it's Carter's turn.





	Center Stage

**Author's Note:**

> Sort've inspired by [this series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/350618) by gdgdbaby.  
> Dubious consent because everyone knows this is a thing that is done, but Carter is not super about it.

“All you have to do is come,” Claude says softly. His face is as pink as Carter’s feels, but he looks earnest, wearing the same gentle, captainly expression he uses on all the guys when he’s doing his best to take care of them. “Nobody will touch you. Nobody else will be in the room. And I’ll be here after, if you want me to be.” 

 

Carter takes a moment to think about it; on one hand, he’s not sure he can handle facing Claude knowing that  _ Claude knows _ he just got done jerking off. On the other . . . he is basically being asked to make a sex tape. Not that he hadn’t expected this, someday; but this is sooner than he expected and - now that he’s faced with actually doing it - he finds himself more wary about it than he expected. Knowing Claude is there, waiting and looking out for him, might be nice. 

 

“Would you? Stay.” 

 

“Of course.” Claude reaches out, gripping his shoulder for a moment and giving him a pat before stepping back. “See you soon.” 

 

Carter thinks he should have a retort to that, but it dies in his throat. Instead, he nods and turns toward the waiting door. It’s quiet inside the room, the click of the lock as he turns it loud in his ears. There’s a large bed, pristine and white with a mound of pillows at the head. He can see magazines on the bedside table, and there’s a tall bookshelf filled with DVDs; it’s all porn, the covers and titles making him flush as he gets close enough to make them out. There’s a TV hung on the opposite wall from the bed, and - as Carter does a slow tour of the room - he makes note the cameras strategically positioned around it, a few even pointing down from the ceiling. 

 

Moving back to the bookshelf, Carter tries to shove back the creeping feeling running up his spine. The background noise might help, he thinks, as he runs his fingers along the spines of the DVD cases. There’s a variety - solos, couples, and groups in all combinations of genders. Taking a slow breath, Carter pulls a DVD from the shelf. He fumbles a little with getting it into the DVD player, but the video queues up quickly and Carter turns the volume down before hitting play. The actors on the screen waste no time, and the sounds they make fill the room enough to kill some of the heavy quiet. 

 

Stripping out of his shoes, socks, and jeans, Carter leaves them in a pile on the floor. He crawls onto the bed, finding it wonderfully soft and fresh smelling - a testament to the cleaning staff’s thoroughness, if nothing else, considering what he knows has happened here. The coolness of it makes goosebumps dance across his skin and his nipples go tight. Carter can feel just enough of an edge of arousal to lean into it, closing his eyes and running his hands up his own torso. He lets his fingers skim under his shirt a little, before going up and over to tease at his nipples through the fabric. 

 

Carter sits up enough to pull his shirt off, dropping it over the bed. The soft bedding against the bare skin of his back feels nice and he lets himself sink into the comfort of it. Closing his eyes, he hooks his thumbs under the hem of his boxers and pulls them off, too, kicking them toward the end of the bed. He’s maybe half-hard, but being naked on a soft bed with the gentle moans and sounds of fucking coming from the TV is helping. Carter almost wishes they’d waited until after a game, when adrenaline is high and he wants nothing more than to get off as soon as he gets home. 

 

Skirting around his cock, Carter pets at his thighs, over the tops and gradually down so he’s brushing the softer insides. Sliding one hand up to pinch a nipple, he cups his balls in the other hand and rolls them, biting his lip to muffle the sound he makes. Absently, he thinks maybe he should let himself be loud, that maybe that’s what they’ll want, but they can deal; he can’t force himself to let the sounds out, not with cameras rolling and Claude waiting just outside the door. 

 

Carter spreads his legs a little, giving his cock a slow stroke but it’s too dry. He debates for a moment before opening his eyes, glancing at the bedside table. Rolling over to pull open a drawer, he finds exactly what he was looking for and then some. There are bottles of lube - all new - and boxes of condoms. Those he expected. What he didn’t expect were the dildos, vibrators, and what even looks to be a variety of gags and rope. Plucking lube from the drawer, he debates for a moment before grabbing one of the vibrators as well. He’s not planning on using it, not definitely, but he doesn’t want to have to stop again if he decides to. 

 

As he settles back down, Carter catches a glimpse of the red recording light on the camera above him. It’s off putting, and he closes his eyes again as soon as he’s poured enough lube on his fingers to slick his cock. His stroke is smooth, now, just tight enough to make him gasp. Rolling his balls in his other hand, Carter sets up a good rhythm, chewing his lip and listening to the slick sounds of him jerking off combine with the porn still running on the TV. He keeps his legs spread, feet braced so he can arch a little now and then; it’s the only concession he makes to give the cameras around him a show. 

 

On a whim, Carter does grab the vibrator, flicking it on. He slides it down, pressing up behind his balls and he shudders as the vibrations run up through him. Working it in a tight circle, he strokes himself fast, jolting when he accidentally turns it up higher. It’s good and too much and he’s fucking helplessly up into his fist as he comes, immediately yanking the vibrator away and dropping it - still buzzing - on the bed. Twisting onto his side, Carter curls up a bit, pressing his face into the soft bedding as he comes down. He still has one hand cradling his dick, the mess cupped in his fingers and surely getting smeared on the bed. 

 

It’s a few minutes before he feels like he can move. Pushing himself up, Carter wipes his fingers on the already-dirtied sheets and moves to stand on wobbly legs. He grabs his clothes, first, pulling them back on quickly because he’s suddenly aware of his nudity and what he’s just done. He turns off the TV without returning the DVD to its case; he figures who ever maintains the room can take a care of that. There’s a small, attached bathroom, but he forgoes using the shower to wash his hands and splash cool water on his face in a futile attempt to tame the wild flush there. 

 

The hallway is blessedly cool and smells of rink, unlike the room he’s leaving which now smells of - 

 

And there’s Claude, true to his word, concern furrowing his brow as he approaches. 

 

“Okay?” 

 

Carter takes a slow breath and nods. “Fine.” 

 

For a moment, Claude is quiet, studying is his face. “Come home with me. I’ll feed you. And we can talk, if you want.” 

 

Part of Carter wants to say no; he’s not the first to do this, and he won’t be the last. But Claude’s offer of comfort and a understanding ear sends a wash of relief over him that he can’t deny. 

 

“Okay. Thanks, G.” 

 

“Yeah. Come on, kid.” 


End file.
